


Light My Fire

by rainbowdalek



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, holy oil, total smut, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdalek/pseuds/rainbowdalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas use holy oil in a way that was definitely not intended by the manufacturer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light My Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annecto-lien](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=annecto-lien).



> My buddy annecto-lien has a bit of a thing for holy fire/holy oil pwps. This was my Christmas present to her last year; I just found it in a folder and decided to post it after all. Totally unbetaed, sorry about that. Set pre-Season 9.

A circle of holy oil is circumscribed around the nest of blankets they’ve laid out in the abandoned house’s basement.

  
Dean sets the flask on the ground, and he looks over toward Castiel. His mouth goes dry, but he manages to croak out, “Are… are you sure you want to go through with this, Cas, because-“

  
“Dean.” Castiel fixes him with that stare, and Dean swallows hard. He hasn’t been this turned on since he was a horny teenager, and Cas’s voice goes straight to his dick. “I trust you. Trust me. I want this.”

  
Dean’s still new at this, new at men or man-shaped angels or whatever, and the last thing he wants is to add another fuckup to the laundry list of monumental fuckups that is his life. He takes a shaky breath, slides a match against the grit on the side of the box, and lets it fall onto the circle of oil.

  
The flame licks around the circle, and orange light dances across Castiel’s face as he closes his eyes. Dean watches as Cas accustoms himself to the feeling of being shut off from the Host, of intentionally blocking them out.

  
And then, all at once like jumping into a cold pool, he steps into Castiel’s space and presses their lips together.

  
They stand like that for a moment, lips touching, the fire around them strangely silent. And then Castiel sighs and _melts_ into him. His stubble scratches Dean’s face and his hands come up to grasp Dean’s shoulders. Dean makes a strangled noise, because nothing he has ever fantasized about included Castiel licking into his mouth, kissing him persistently and tenderly, hands pressed tight over the same places where the angel had once gripped his soul in hell.

  
Cas is only wearing the button-down shirt and pants out of the holy tax accountant garb, which ten minutes ago had seemed almost like nudity for the angel. Now, though, it is far too many layers, and Dean fumbles with the buttons as he kisses his way down the curve of Castiel’s neck. Castiel works his hands beneath Dean’s undershirt, and slowly, carefully, they peel off ties and flannel and layers and boxers until there’s nothing left to remove. Dean takes a deep breath as he runs his eyes down Castiel’s figure.  
Then Castiel leans in, and the contact – the brush of Cas’s erection against his own – is electrifying. Dean reaches around and grips the angel’s ass, pulling him closer, grinding against him slowly, kissing a line down Castiel’s scruffy jawbone as Cas gasps into his ear, overwhelmed with sensation.

  
They sink down, and Castiel lies back against the blankets. His pupils are blown wide, and his eyes glitter in the flickering light.

  
Dean’s hands _do not_ shake as he pours a little (a lot) too much holy oil out onto his hand. He inches forward and leans over Cas, propped on one arm while his other hand seeks out Cas’s entrance. “Just one first, okay?” he whispers hoarsely, and at Cas’s nod he pushes a slick finger up and in.

  
Cas stills.

  
“Are you alright?” Dean asks, holding still, afraid to move, afraid to hurt Cas.

  
“Yes,” Cas says, and the tension leaks back out of Dean’s shoulders. “The sensation is… more than I expected. I think the holy oil is amplifying it.” Cas’s voice has become just a little breathy. “Keep going.”

  
Dean works him open slowly, first one finger, then two. Castiel has one hand fisted in the blankets, the other pressed against his own mouth as though to hold in the wanton sounds that keep escaping. Dean slides the edge of a blunt nail up from the base to the tip of Castiel’s shaft and shifts his fingers inside him at the same time, and from beneath the hand over his lips Castiel _keens_.

  
“Please, Dean. I am ready.” Cas sounds the closest Dean has ever heard to begging, but Dean ignores it and keeps going, adding a third finger, fucking Cas open on one hand, running light, teasing touches over his cock with the other. Finally he stops, and sits back on his haunches to review his good work. Castiel is flushed from his thighs to his chest; he is breathing in short, uneven gasps; his legs are splayed apart to provide Dean easiest access and his hole is slick and loose. He looks utterly debauched, and Dean knows he can’t wait any longer.

  
His own erection hasn’t flagged in the meantime. He spills some more oil over his hand, not caring about the mess or the waste, and slicks it up and down his dick.  
Dean leans in and hitches one of Cas’ legs up onto his shoulder. Cas watches him, eyes dark and intense, as he lines himself up. Dean looks up and holds that stare for a second, and then Cas nods.

  
Dean thrusts forward, slowly sliding in until he is fully sheathed inside Castiel. Despite his thorough preparation Cas is still tight around his dick, and it feels amazing. He stays like that for several seconds, just reeling from the sensations, sweat starting to bead on his skin from the closeness of the fire and their shared heat, until Cas growls,  
“Dean, I am not made of glass. _Move._ ”

  
Taking his cue, Dean pulls out and then pushes back in, slowly at first but building up a steady rhythm. Castiel’s face goes slack with pleasure when he gets the angle right, and Dean can tell it’s only a matter of time. Cas’s arms come up and around his shoulders, hands scrabbling for an anchor, and when Dean reaches down and wraps a hand around Castiel’s cock the angel’s fingernails dig into his back.

  
“Dean,” Cas rasps in a broken voice, and comes hard, hips bucking, come striping his stomach.

  
Cas’s hole clenches around him and Dean’s thrusts become erratic. Cas reaches up to brush a thumb across Dean’s lips, then leans up to pull him into a kiss. The intimacy of the gesture makes something twist in Dean’s chest and then he is coming, too, pleasure crashing over him in waves.

  
After few minutes slumped comfortably on top of his angel, Dean eases out of Cas and slumps to the side. He reaches out to grab a thermos, from which he dumps some water on the ring of fire. It extinguishes with a hiss, and Dean feels rather than hears Castiel’s intake of breath as he is reconnected to angel radio. Splashing a bit more on one of the blankets, he cleans off Cas, then himself. Casting about for a phone, he checks the time. Still two hours before their rendezvous with Sam.

  
Tentatively, he slings an arm across Castiel’s chest. Cas turns and curls into him, burying his face in the hollow of his neck, and they sleep like that until Sam’s phone call tells him that they are late to meet him and that ghouls are no fun without backup, thank you very much.


End file.
